So the other week, we watched the DC Comics superhero film Suicide Squad:Continue reading “Not a Review of “Suicide Squad””
A few months ago—before the shelter in place started, but not long before—I started watching The Expanse. This is an adaptation of the science fiction book series of the same name; the first season (mostly) follows the plot of the first book, Leviathan Wakes, which I read last year during my recovery from The Event. I say it “mostly” follows the plot of Leviathan Wakes because it includes characters and subplots I’ve never seen before, which is what’s making me a little reluctant to watch too much of the series just yet, because …
When adaptations are involved, I usually try to read the book before watching the adaptation, so that I can properly position the adaptation somewhere on “the book was better”* spectrum. (By this measure, The Expanse is pretty good.)
So this week I was reading Spin, the Hugo award-winning novel by Robert Charles Wilson, in which mysterious aliens give Earth the Krikkit treatment by encasing it in a “membrane” that induces an extremely steep time differential between what’s inside and what’s outside. Hilarity ensues.
So Netflix finally sent me Avengers: Endgame, a little over a month after it was released on disc. As previously noted, we—mostly meaning me—had to watch a number of other movies while waiting for that one (#firstworldproblems). My wife paid little to no attention to those movies, but she did make a few observations here and there. First up: The Lego Movie.
Recently I was reading Here & There, a science fiction novel by Joshua V. Scher.
So this week I was reading The Atomic Sea by Jack Conner:
So on July 4th, Netflix released the third season of their show Stranger Things:
So this week I decided to reach into my giant stack of rejection letters. As usual, I went to random.org to decide which section of the file to pull from, and it told me that this week, it would be the letter O. Despite its ubiquity as a vowel, my file folder for the letter O turned out to be virtually empty. (O, The Oprah Magazine wasn’t in operation when I was submitting a lot of short stories places. Not that I would have submitted anything there anyway, since that wasn’t exactly my target market.) However, I did find something a little unusual: Submission guidelines to an ancient fanzine called Oh Boy.